Got Your Back
by Just Another Tin Dog
Summary: Rose isn't in such fabulous shape, and the Doctor lets his fingers do the walking.


Got Your Back

"…so that weaselly little prime minister actually agreed – can you believe it? He really _was_ a stupid ape - that the continental heads will meet regularly, form standing committees for trade and policymaking, and consolidate their communications networks to…Rose?"

"Mmm? Sorry. Just hate this weather, yeah?" Rose gave him what was intended to be a chirpy reassurance and kept plodding along. The Doctor paused in his ramble to peer at his silent companion, who had been walking ever more slowly since they'd left the city. And just now he was _sure_ that he'd heard her booted feet stumble in the snow. Jeopardy-friendly she might be at times, but clumsy she wasn't. And she had been awfully quiet, abstaining from her usual barrage of questions and demands for explanations of the culture _du jour_…yep, there was something going on.

Rose's attempt to cover up her discomfort failed miserably. He stopped fully and gave her an appraising look. Pale skin and lips, grim set to her jaw, hunched shoulders and torso, stiff gait. She hadn't looked or acted this poorly in the city! Sure, he hadn't exactly gotten a detailed report of what she'd been up to for the past day or so, but she'd greeted him happily when he'd arrived that afternoon, and hadn't mentioned that anything was amiss.

Mentally smacking himself – _you didn't really pay her much attention back in the council chambers because you were too damn busy running your gob_ - he gently took hold of her elbow and stopped her. "Rose, you're not alright. What happened back there? And why didn't you tell me?"

"Look, Doctor, I'll be okay. No trauma, all my parts intact, no time paradoxes created. It's been a long couple of days, I'm just really tired and cold, and I'm gonna sleep for a month once we get back to the TARDIS, so don't put any good shopping trips on the schedule for a while."

A faint grin touched her mouth with her banter, but that smile didn't come anywhere near her eyes. And the Doctor had long ago learned that the way to read Rose Marion Tyler like a book was to look into those eyes. Not that he had a problem doing that, mind you – or, for that matter, looking at anything else of hers - _stop it! _ – but looking through the windows to her soul was going to get him into some large trouble one day if he didn't watch it.

"Rose, I'm worried. And you're stubborn. Either you tell me what's wrong, or I carry you back to the TARDIS and put you in the infirmary for tests until I find out. And I reserve the right to do that anyway based on what you tell me."

Rose gaped at the indignity. "Oi! Not fair. And I _don't_ need carrying." She straightened up, wincing visibly, tightened her bulky jacket around her, and started off again down the icy woodland path that led to the TARDIS' hiding place.

Sighing heavily and following, the Doctor steeled himself for anything ranging from a minor fuss to a full-blown Tyler-Female brick-wall throwdown (potentially complete with slap). "No way, Rose. We still have another half-hour to walk." He did his best to look stern and concerned at the same time, but both the look and the comment were rather ineffectively aimed at her retreating bum, so he went with discretion and trailed her, stewing. He just hoped that she wasn't doing herself any more injury by walking, though he supposed he'd probably do the same by carrying her so far anyway. Damn.

An hour later, after a gradual slowdown on Rose's part (plus a couple of 'hey-look-at-that' breaks faked by the Doctor for her benefit), the familiar weathered blue box came into view, nestled among the snowy rocks and scrub in the gully. Both of them gave a sigh of relief as the Doctor opened the door and they trudged into the welcome warmth of the TARDIS.

The Doctor promptly went into manic mode, having spent the last hour silently stewing on symptoms, causes, and possible complications of Rose's clear misery. "Right-o, then, Miss Tyler, allons-y, to the infirmary! Ahhh, that rhymed. Sort of. Badly. Ought not to do that one again, probably. Nearly as bad as 'correctamundo.' HEY!" He barely made it around the console in time to catch Rose before she cracked her skull on her way down to sprawl on the floor.

* * *

"Oh, Rose." The Doctor slid his arms under her knees and shoulders and was about to stand up when Rose's eyes fluttered open.

"Shit. Sorry. I'm fine, Doctor. Really. It was only that it was so much warmer here, yeah? Been in freezing weather for three days, just a bit of a shock. I'm off to take a bath and get reacquainted with my pillows…"

"Oh, missy, you can forget that plan. I am not leaving this one alone, Rose. Come with me to the infirmary. Please?" He slid his arm out from under her knees, removed her gloves, and gently took her cold hand in his, rubbing her knuckles with the pad of his thumb. It broke his hearts to see her so obviously hiding pain.

Rose sat silently, leaning against him, before sighing. "Look, it's not a big deal. But fine, as long as you hurry, and I get to take a bath and get into MY bed. Umm…only I think I need a hand up…" Very slowly, the Doctor wrapped his arms around her and helped her up to a standing position, then eased off both of their dripping overcoats before he took her arm and set off for the infirmary.

Rose said not a word on the way. When they arrived, he scooped her onto a bed and removed her wet boots, then turned to gather a few things and drape his suit jacket over a chair. When he finished and again faced Rose's direction, he was standing behind the head of her bed, effectively giving him a moment to spy on her, and he didn't like what he saw. Rose was squirming miserably, discomfort radiating from her, and he had no doubt that her clammy clothes and wet hair weren't helping either. He went back to a storage cupboard and retrieved two thermal blankets.

Returning to her side, he tucked one blanket around her and motioned for her to lift her head so he could wrap the second under and around her wet hair…but she didn't. Oh, she tried, but the corded straining of her neck and accompanying grimace bore testimony to the fact that she couldn't. "Alright, Rose, I need for you to tell me what's wrong; I don't want to hurt you." He scooted his stool as close to her as he could and took her hand, waiting.

Rose sighed; concern and affection were obvious in the Doctor's eyes and voice, and she certainly did like being close enough to smell his books-and-engine-parts-and-otherworldly-botanicals scent. Ah, damn, she might as well spill it all and be done so she could get to that hot bath…"It's just, well, I'm sore and stiff and everything hurts because I spent seven hours on a little platform lifting crates of supplies nonstop from down below my feet to up above my head, and then I slept outside leaned up against a transport, and -"

"_What?!" _The Doctor's voice jumped an octave. "You were supposed to be an honored guest at the continental station and have access to their libraries and comm channels, and find out more about the culture while I was off being brilliant, if I do say so myself, setting up that ingenious little hologram to –"

"I know, I know. I was. Nobody did me wrong, Doctor. It was me. I had a posh suite, I had access codes and a butler, or whatever they called those weirdo blokes. But I was watching the news broadcast that same afternoon you left, and they were calling for emergency volunteers to help with a structural failure in a hospital just outside the city, and I was kind of bored already, sorry, so I asked the station concierge where to go and he showed me to the relief transport that was headed that way, and I stayed out there for a day and a half, and I didn't get back to the station till early morning before you got back. I only wanted to help." She finished and looked away.

The Doctor shook his head with pride and – no, don't go there – and frustration, all rolled together. His Rose, always wanting to help anywhere she could. "Rose, you could have gotten yourself killed! A collapsed hospital? I heard about that where I was. It was a disaster, and they couldn't get any heavy machinery in safely. You worked for seven hours, in that cold? And spent the night outside? Wait. Do you have any injuries? Bleeding? Anywhere I have to check first?"

"Not that I know of. By the time I got back to my suite and had a mirror available, I was way too stiff to check myself properly. But it all works, so I'm sure it's just…"

"Oh, I'm not assuming anything. I need to make sure. All right?" Getting a slightly rebellious glance and then a mute nod in reply, he began assessing her condition. Temperature a bit low, but that was to be expected given the climate they'd just left. Heart rate a bit high, also to be expected given her discomfort and their recent hike. He drew some blood and ran a quick screen, which came up blessedly clean. Lungs sounded clear, eyes tracked fine, and another scan assured him that no organs were damaged. Now for the real telling.

"Just try to relax and let me see what we've got here." The Doctor gently took her head in his hands and slowly moved it in all directions, and while Rose didn't complain out loud, her tight line of a mouth spoke silent volumes. He wiggled his fingers underneath the back of her neck and gingerly felt around. Rassilon! She wasn't lying about being stiff – he could barely detect her cervical vertebrae beneath the rigid muscles. No wonder she couldn't pick her head up. She was lying with her eyes screwed shut, clearly very uncomfortable. "What's this all about, then?" he asked softly.

"I told you. I'm just stiff and sore. I'm serious, I'm sure that's all. Can I go have a bath now?"

"Nope," he said, popping the 'p.' But at least her neck seemed undamaged, and threading his fingers softly through her thick, damp hair, a careful skim of her skull showed no abnormalities. One less thing to worry about, he supposed.

"Need to check your abdomen." Getting a resigned look from Rose, he unzipped her hoodie and untucked her t-shirt from her jeans before very gently spreading his hands across her stomach and ribs. He didn't miss the flinch that crossed her face at the instant his fingers made contact; he assumed it was made in anticipation of pain. Not a good sign. Her silky skin was cool, and he tried to touch as lightly as possible as he checked for lumps or wounds. He found no sign of damage, but when he added a bit more pressure to check her muscles, he found the same steely rigidity and got the same miserable grimace. Well, only one more thing to check.

"Rose? I need for you to roll over onto your stomach. Almost done." She heaved a sigh and he felt terrible for asking her to do something painful. He helped her change positions, then skinned off her now-unzipped hoodie. He slowly and carefully untucked the back of her t-shirt, then slid his hands under and felt the small of her back and around her ribs. Again, the incredible stiffness, and he shook his head sadly as he moved his hands up to her shoulders and encountered the same thing. He ran his hands gently back down her back, rolled her t-shirt back down, and thought for a moment.

This would be intriguing if it weren't someone he cared about, he thought – he'd never seen or felt such widespread and extreme muscle tension. How she'd managed to make it all the way to the TARDIS, he didn't know. And while he was very relieved that she had no injuries, he was still very concerned about her; she would be all but crippled for days. Well, he would do what he could.

"Listen, Rose, I think you could do with that bath after all – "

"Hey, thanks, there, you – "

"Oh, no, not what I meant! I mean, er, you smell lovely. Like a rose." Rose gave a most unladylike snort and rolled her eyes. "But I meant that a hot bath will help those muscles start to loosen up. And while you do that I'll get a nice muscle relaxer and analgesic ready. Can't heal up if you spend the whole night hurting and writhing, now can you?"

"Now you're talking. Can you help me up? The hot tub is calling my name."

* * *

Rose barely restrained herself from groaning loudly as she sank – finally! – into the steaming bath. The Doctor, bless him, had run the water for her while she was in the washroom, had left a cup of tea and some chocolate biscuits by the edge of the tub, and had even made a dash to her bedroom for some jimjams to save her the trip. She knew that he was worried and just wanted her tucked safely up in bed all doped up and asleep, which was very sweet, but right now hot water topped the chart for Dame Rose.

She gingerly extended her legs out a fraction of an inch more, then changed her mind as a cramp threatened. Bugger, but she felt horrid…but oh, this heat was heavenly. And was that lavender she smelled? She contemplated strangling the Doctor for nosing into her stash of bath oils, but she did have to admit that it was what she'd have chosen herself, so she figured he'd live for another day. Besides, he had been terribly kind and gentle since they'd been back aboard; she knew he was finding some way of beating himself up for her own headstrong actions and the resulting fallout. She didn't regret going to the hospital, and she knew she'd been useful… but that little excursion had really taken it out of her - she'd never been this miserable physically - so she hoped they'd have a few days of hanging out in the Vortex. Besides, she'd missed him terribly during those two days he'd been miles away. For now, she was planning to stay in this tub for as long as she possibly could, and enjoy the hot water, steam, and quiet hum of the TARDIS…

…"Rose? Are you okay? If you don't answer now I'm coming in!" Rose jolted awake at the sound of the knock and the Doctor's alarmed voice from the other side of the door. Oh, damn, she'd fallen asleep. The water had cooled considerably, and her back and neck were throbbing.

"I'm fine. Just had a bit of a kip, accidentally."

"Well, can you handle, erm, everything, or do you need help?" The Doctor knew that Rose wasn't going to be very nimble for a while, and he didn't want her to have to feel embarrassed by asking for help.

"Ah…" Rose immediately knew that the long soak, however blessedly welcome it had been, hadn't sorted her problem. And if she was going to get the experience of the Doctor dragging her wet, soapy self out of a bath, she'd damn well at least be in shape to enjoy it…_bad, Rose._ "I think I'm fine. Would you hang out there, just in case?"

"Yup. Standing by."

Rose managed to get out of the sunken tub, though with several muttered curses and a distinct lack of grace, and staggered over to the pile of fluffy towels laid on a stone bench nearby. Patting herself as dry as she could without moving more than she had to, she turned to the clothes he'd laid out. Knickers (plain light blue cotton, good job), soft boxers, and a loose old tank top. Perfect. She perched gingerly on the edge of the bench and slowly got everything on. Decently covered, she picked up a dry towel from the stack and called to the Doctor. "Dry and dressed. But I think I'm gonna need some help with my hair. You mind?"

The Doctor slipped in. "Your wish is my command. But first I want to get this into you – it will take a while to kick in, and I suspect that you're already pretty close to exhausted." He produced a spray injector and pressed it against Rose's inner forearm. The hiss and slight sting reminded her sharply that she was probably in for a rough next couple of days. "Now, bed. I want you ready to crash when this starts to work."

* * *

He walked with her to her room, which thankfully the TARDIS had located close to the bath today, and nodded to the bed, rolling up his sleeves and taking the towel from her. She gingerly perched sideways and felt the bed shift as the Doctor sat right behind her. She was struck silent by his gentleness as he gathered her wet hair and very carefully began drying it, pressing and patting and periodically using the hairbrush on her nightstand to painlessly work out the tangles before continuing. _If he doesn't finish up soon,_ she thought, _I'll either pass out or snog him. I thought the bath was fantastic, but this… _

"Dry enough?" the Doctor said, making one last slow swipe through her hair with the brush. She jolted back to full awakeness, nodded, and gave him a grateful smile, receiving a cheeky, affectionate one in return. "All right, then, get horizontal." He pulled back the bedclothes as she stiffly slid in. But rather than wishing her good night and clicking out the lights as he left, he held up one skinny finger – "Back in a tick" – and returned moments later with a dark glass bottle, dimming the lights as he re-entered.

Rose eyed it suspiciously. "Last time you came near me with a bottle like that, I thought it was lager but it had an intelligent sluggy thing in it, and you wanted me to let it ride in my hair to eavesdrop on a planetary ruler…"

"Hey, it was a very nice sluggy thing, as you call it, and if you'll remember, it did save us from a rather unpleasant death before we left" - he finally noticed Rose's undiminished apprehension – "but nope, no slug, nothing alive even. Promise. Budge up and flip over." He gave a twirl of his finger, then when she didn't move, efficiently barrel-rolled her onto her stomach. He adjusted the pillows (one under her head, one snuggled up under her arm; he'd watched her sleep quite enough to know the routine) and laid her hair out of the way, then said "Comfy?"

"Erm, yeah, but…"

"Good. So we'll see if this Hyrdhyrillian massage oil is really as fabulous as they claim. You know, I never really told the fellow that I knew he was lying through his fangs about where they get all the botanical essences. That planet he named hasn't had an atmosphere in several thousand years, so I wonder if they –Sorry. Anyway, now's as good a time to try it out as any. Let me know if I hurt you, but I'll try to be careful. May I?"

"Uh…s-s-sure…but you really –"

"Rose." The Doctor's voice was serious. "Please let me try to help. I know you're miserable. Or is this too uncomfortable?"

"Oh, no…no girl in her right mind would turn down a back rub!"

"Right-o." Rose could hear the bottle being unstoppered, then the quiet swish of hands rubbing together, and then the most fabulous scent she'd ever smelt accosted her nose. It was light but heady, sweet but vegetal, and entirely lovely. And then she felt her tank top moved up and hands settled on the small of her back, and time stood still.

* * *

Oh God. He had his hands on her back. And he was just…touching her. The gentle, still contact was simultaneously calming and exciting; she could feel his intent focus on her, and the thought itself sent shivers up her back. Apparently he noticed, because he withdrew the tiniest bit and said "Rose, I swear I'm not going to hurt you. Relax. Breathe. I promise I'll help you, but you've got to let me." Oh, was he ever mistaken, but she couldn't exactly tell him that. So she concentrated on lying still and enjoying the calm contact she never got enough of.

_This is not going to be good for my blood pressure_, thought the Doctor as he sat with his hands cradling Rose's lower back, accustoming himself to the feel of her skin and the play of the abused muscles beneath. Most of all, he needed for her to relax; this would do no good at all if she was constantly flinching and tensing up. He knew she trusted him, but this was rather a new step in their closeness, and he didn't want to screw it up. So he sat, and he waited quietly, and within a couple of minutes he felt it: the almost imperceptible melting into his hands and acceptance of his touch. He could start.

Applying gentle, steady pressure, he began to slowly circle his palms on the spot. He knew that this was going to have to be a drawn-out process since her muscles were in such an extreme state, but judging by the instant change in Rose's breathing patterns and the resistance he felt in her muscle groups, even this minor manipulation was having a noticeable effect. He figured he'd best ask. "Am I hurting you? You've got to tell me. I can't read minds. Well, actually I can, but…"

"Arrgh…oh God, don't stop. M'trying to be quiet…" Rose's voice was partially muffled by the pillow, though he could see that her eyes were closed.

"You do whatever you need to. Including hollering if I do something wrong. Never had a problem doing that before, eh?" The visible corner of her mouth tipped up in a smile, and he resumed his slow, gentle pattern. After a few minutes, her lower back had relaxed somewhat, so he applied more precise pressure with his fingers to the tightest spots, careful to move slowly and never break skin contact. As he focused on the worst kinks, Rose caught her breath and occasionally groaned…then, when he felt a huge knot under the band of her shorts, she froze up and held her breath. "Hey hey. Breathe through it…" The Doctor laid one calming hand on her shoulder and the other over the spot, tucking his fingers under the waistband. He applied a bare amount of steady pressure, and again simply waited for her to relax. When she finally did, he was even more gentle and slow as he coaxed the knot out. Finally, he felt the knot give, and Rose gasped at the sudden absence of pain from that spot.

Satisfied with the status of her lower back, and very much enjoying both the contact and the trust, the Doctor began easing his way up her spine, circling on the tense muscles slowly and carefully until they loosened, and patiently dealing with half a dozen troublesome spots. Soon, though, he realized that he had a problem. "Erm, Rose, I can't finish this with your top on. I can stop, but that won't help you much. I could use the sonic screwdriver to cut it off so you won't have to move…"

"'S fine. Old shirt anyway" came the muffled reply. The Doctor kept one hand laid on her back and dug out his trusty sonic screwdriver with the other. He quickly adjusted the settings and then, in one efficient motion, slid his hand up the back of her top, flipped the screwdriver so it was facing up and out, and zipped the tank top open down the back. He cut the shoulder straps, then laid Rose's back bare, trying desperately not to think about how perfect she was, nor how silky her skin was, nor how much her quiet groans and heavy breathing were flustering him.

He poured another generous dollop of the oil into his hands and rubbed them together. _Here goes._ Starting at the already-relaxed small of her back, he slowly and smoothly stroked his hands up along the sides of her spine, over and around her shoulderblades, and onto her shoulders, where he traced across before reversing his path back down and starting the track again. This was absolutely amazing, the privilege of touching Rose so intimately. He hoped that his hands were communicating what he felt, because he was fairly sure that if he had to start talking, he'd either cry or go catatonic with pent-up emotion.

"…ohmygod…" Rose was trying not to cry. It was just too much; not only were her screamingly tight muscles getting massaged out in a splendidly expert manner, but she was being caressed by the most important person in the world to her. The combination of the physical contact, plus his intent focus on her comfort and his amazing tenderness and care, were overwhelming.

The Doctor easily picked up on her being emotional, but he was unsure as to its origin. "You're tensing up more. What's wrong? Hurting? Too fast? Uncomfortable?" Rose's head slowly shook back and forth – _no_ - on the pillow as she shuddered to compose herself. "Rose, I need for you to breathe slowly so I can work with that. In and out, that's right. Keep doing that." He kept his hands spread out, covering as much of her back as possible to maximize contact, and repeatedly glided them up, over, around, down in a hypnotic rhythm.

After a few minutes, he stalled at her shoulders and cupped them, drinking in the feel of her silky skin and memorizing the view and feel. He gently began to knead her shoulders, eliciting a very heartfelt, involuntary moan; these muscles were like iron, and there was no doubting that this was sending some powerful sensations after so much tension and pain. His thumbs worked gradually around her shoulderblades and up her neck as his long, nimble fingers kept up the steady pressure and pattern. All was quiet for a while as Rose breathed and the Doctor concentrated. And then he heard a quiet - but very definite - sob.

* * *

_What have I done?_ The Doctor was horrified. Had he caused her pain? Had he frightened her? "Rose?..." He stopped the massage but kept gently holding her shoulders, and he waited, afraid of what he was about to hear.

The stillness seemed to break the dam; Rose burst into mostly-silent and hidden tears, and the Doctor, for all his brainpower and time capabilities, was completely at a loss for words or actions. Finally he steeled himself and decided that it was better to assume and try than to sit there staring like a lump. He toed off his Chucks and quickly slid down to lie beside her, never removing his right hand from her back, and he nestled his head close to hers. "Rose, I never meant to make you uncomfortable. I'll go and you can get some rest, and –"

"No! Oh – sniff – no. I'm so sorry. It's not that at all. It's wonderful. Please…don't leave." Rose sounded so miserable that he hated to ask more, but he really had to find out what had made her break down so.

"Wouldn't dream of it, then." Reassured that she didn't want him gone, the Doctor made himself comfortable, snuggled in closer alongside and facing her, pulled the duvet up over Rose to keep her warm, then snuck his hand back under to settle gently on the small of her back. "Tell me?"

"I… I just…I can't."

"You can. Please, Rose. Don't shut me out."

She sniffed, then choked out with a fresh spate of tears: "Shut you out! God, that's the last thing I'd want. But how do I know that you want to be let in? It's too much to handle all at once. "

Did she really wonder whether he wanted closeness with her? Had he truly been that horrid a communicator? Well, he supposed he had; he'd always been rather a bottler-up, but when it came to Rose? Nothing was worth her not being able to count on him. She didn't deserve to be dangled.

He gulped. "I, ah, I'm not very good at this. But Rose…I do want to be let in. You have no idea what you mean to me. You have no idea how much _this_ means to me, that you'd let me do this, that you trust me." He laid his forehead gently on her head and lowered his voice. "When you're hurt, it kills me inside, and all I want is to fix it." He gave her back a soft rub and sighed.

"So…you're okay with this? Not just a duty thing?" She half-chuckled, but he could sense the real fear in her voice, fear that what had been an emotional and physical overload for her was nothing but a sense of responsibility for him.

A pant of wry laughter escaped him. "Rose, this last half-hour has been a dream come true for me. I only wish it weren't at the cost of you being in pain. I'll be more than thrilled to do a repeat performance anytime."

"Ah, be careful what you promise. I'll have you doing this every night. It's heavenly." Rose turned her head to face him, finally, and a small but genuine smile flashed up at him through the drying tears and echoes of pain.

His hearts turned over; how amazing it was that, through nine hundred-plus years and the almost infinite powers and knowledge of his Time Lord heritage, he was completely undone by this human. No point in denying it. Rose Tyler had efficiently weaseled her way into those parts of him that he'd long since written off and mortared up; she'd re-taught him to feel and emote and trust, and she'd let him know in a million small ways that no matter what, she'd be there in case he needed a hand. Or a shoulder, or a pep talk, or a reality check, or one of those megawatt Rose grins that were usually followed by a tight hug, which usually morphed down into a gentle holding and swaying as they reveled in simply being there with each other.

No, in all the things he'd seen and done, nothing was quite so amazing as Rose. She knew what he needed even before he did, and gave it freely, no matter what it was or what it might cost her. And this was a small way for him to show her that he too could give, and pour out his feelings in his actions, and let her know how much he…well…

"C'mere." He shifted to take her into his arms –

"Oi! No shirt…"

"No shoes, no shirt, no problem. Read that on a sign somewhere. You humans have such bizarre shopping requirements. Anyway, your being topless is my fault anyway, not that I'm particularly sorry – _oof!_" He got back on track as her elbow dug into his ribs – "I'll be the very picture of gentlemanliness. If that's a word. Come here." He gently gathered her into his arms under the duvet, her head nestled by his and his hands free to continue caressing her back. "Rose Tyler, do you know how fabulous you are?"

"Mmm." She beamed, but she was fading fast, he could tell. That cocktail he'd injected had finally caught up with her. He continued to cuddle silently with her until he felt the loose heaviness of sleep overwhelm her, then he waited a few more minutes, gathering up his nerves, before ducking his head to lightly press a kiss onto her slightly parted lips.

Sound asleep in his arms, she smiled gently and murmured something unintelligible, and after a while the Doctor, too, dozed off, dreaming of days and evenings to come with Rose.

The End


End file.
